


The Starfleet Medical Hustle

by Evenstar656



Series: Space Calling [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenstar656/pseuds/Evenstar656
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His hands clenched around the tricorder they were holding.  Looking frantically at him was a pair of electric blue eyes.  He could’ve cried right then and there at the sight of his best friend looking back at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a few scenes and then turned into a beast that I’m probably going to have to write a sequel for to write everything I want. Although I am a doctor, I’m not that kind so I happily practice with my fictional degree, but I’ve tried to research everything so it’s mostly correct but some liberties were taken.

_I apologize for any mistakes, this was un-beta’d_

###

Chapter 1

###

“You get that sonuvabitch back on board right now! I think he can save Kirk.”

McCoy slammed his hand down on the console, cutting off communication with the bridge. He didn’t have the time to worry about catching Khan and keeping Jim alive…Jim, his best friend Jim, _alive_. McCoy stopped himself, he was a doctor and he knew better. Jim was clinically dead. There was no cardiac output, his respiratory system had collapsed, and any brain activity had long since stopped. Jim was dead. The ionizing radiation had blasted through his body ripping apart cells with no thought to what a brilliant man they were destroying. 

“Cryogenic sequence is complete,” Dr. Carol Marcus announced softly.

“Tell me this will work,” McCoy looked up from the console.

He hesitantly stepped towards the cryotube. A thick layer of ice had already built up across the faceplate obscuring the man inside. 

“Alert Starfleet Medical, we’re not doing anything on this tin can. I want him safe on solid ground, and we’re going to need a shuttle. Any news from Spock?” His mind was warping through everything he needed to do.

“Not yet, sir,” a nurse replied.

“Dammit! Where-“

_“Bridge to McCoy.”_

The doctor reached the comm panel in a sprint that would’ve made his academy fitness instructor proud, “McCoy here. Do you have him? Is he alive?”

_“They have him and he is alive. He’s being transported as we speak.”_

“I’ll be waiting, McCoy out.”

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall and the doors hissed open revealing a team of security personnel carrying Khan in on a stretcher. McCoy saw the phasers aimed at him and the handcuffs as he was carried by and placed onto a biobed. The security team took a few steps back but remained by the bed with their weapons ready. Spock and Uhura were only a few steps behind and stopped at the cryotube.

“Did you give him anything?” McCoy was skeptical that the prisoner was so compliant.

“No, Doctor McCoy, he was subdued through physical means.”

“Meaning you beat the shit out of him?” the doctor’s eyebrow rose.

“I did what was necessary.”

“I wish I could’ve done the same, good work, Spock.”

“I must return to the bridge, but I wish to be kept apprised of Jim’s condition.”

“Of course. We’ll be evac-ing him to Fleet Medical.”

Spock looked down at the tube, “Whatever it takes, Doctor McCoy.”

Uhura bent down to the faceplate and planted a delicate kiss on the glass, “Save him.”

For once, he didn’t have a comeback or a reply so he just nodded. The comms officer gave her captain one last look before turning sharply and pulling Spock out of Sickbay with her.

“He’s ready,” a nurse called from Khan’s side.

McCoy saw the IV tubing had already been inserted and the blood collection unit was primed and ready, “I want plasma only.”

The nurse nodded and tapped in the commands onto the instrument’s control panel. With a final tap the machine whirred to life and blood began to flow out of Khan’s arm, and the attached bag began to fill up with the precious straw colored liquid. 

The doctor held his breath as the nurse detached a full bag and placed it in the cold case already holding the first two bags of collected plasma. He wanted to guard the case with his life when it was handed to him. 

“Get Khan to the brig.”

###

McCoy had gotten word that shuttles and emergency medical personnel had arrived to assist with the evacuation of the wounded since it would be some time before the ship get a tow to the dock. He’d kept Jim’s cryotube in the middle of Sickbay so that he could keep his eye on it while triaging the last trickle of wounded crewmembers and preparing the more seriously injured ones for transport back to Starfleet Medical. 

His heart clenched every time he walked past the cryotube. He tried not to look, but he couldn’t help himself. It was getting harder and harder to shove the fear and anxiety gnawing at his gut down as time ticked by. 

The promised medical personnel arrived and immediately got to work to transport the more critically wounded crewmembers. McCoy knew that he should stay and oversee everything, but the Captain was on the list of priority one transports and being his personal physician he was going with them. M’Benga was understanding and would oversee the transfers now that assistance had arrived. He waved over two crewmen to take Jim to an awaiting shuttle. 

The two crewmen guided the torpedo cart loaded with the cryotube out of Sickbay and into the corridor. A passing ensign saw the commotion and pressed himself against the bulkhead to let the group pass. He stole a quick glance at the face beneath the frost and immediately snapped to attention. McCoy looked up from the preliminary plasma screenings he was reviewing as one by one, passing crew members stopped what they were doing and stood at attention. They knew what their Captain had done for them.

Crewmembers lined the entire path to the service turbolift, and were waiting for them when they arrived at the deck leading to the shuttle bay. Jim would be embarrassed by this display…if only he could see it. The kid had done good.

###

_“SFM to Medical Shuttle 12, you are cleared to land on pad three.”_

McCoy gripped the case hard enough to turn his knuckles white as the shuttle gently touched down on the landing pad at Star Fleet Medical. He’d been too busy with wounded to really think about the ship tumbling through the Earth’s atmosphere so he figured a brief moment of panic now was okay. 

A team was waiting for them when the shuttle doors opened and the cryotube was deftly transferred to an awaiting gurney. The doctor in him took over and gave a rundown of what happened to Kirk and his proposed treatment plan as they made their way to an operating room. There was no sense in denying that Kirk was clinically dead to the medical team. Once inside, he didn’t waste any time heading for the scrub room and changing his duty uniform for a set of scrubs.

“Doctor McCoy, this is madness,” an aging attending joined him at the sterilizer unit.

“Believe me, I know.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea, how long was he down? Have you tested this plasma? What good does it do to pump him full if his heart’s not beating to circulate it?”

“Doctor Boyce, I can’t explain it, but I have to try. I know it looks bad, but I’m not giving up on him.”

“Leonard, I know you two are close, but you shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I’m his CMO, I know him better than anyone else-“

“You’re not on your starship, you’re here at Starfleet Medical, and I’m in charge of his case here. Not to mention what you just went through with your ship; I’ve seen the preliminary action reports already. Do you really think you can keep going for much longer?”

“Sir-“ McCoy’s patience was growing thin and time was precious.

“Need I remind you that despite being surgeons, we’re also Starfleet officers and I outrank you Lieutenant Commander? Now, listen to what I have to say,” the men were nose to nose.

“Yes sir,” damn Starfleet and their ranks.

“I’m willing to allow you on Captain Kirk’s case, but not as his attending. You’ll have complete access to treating him, but at any moment I feel that you’re compromised in any way, I’ll revoke your privileges. I was a CMO once, I know that you’re in charge on your ship and you have to treat your friends, but you need help for something this big. Now, tell me what’s your treatment plan. I’ll go along with this for now, Doctor McCoy.”

McCoy let out the breath he’d been holding, “The condensed version is that a prisoner we took on board has amazingly fast cell replication and his plasma should help promote new cell growth in Jim. This should reverse the damage done by the radiation.”

“I just got your notes from your Sickbay, there’s a lot of damage to fix. How long was he in arrest before you put him in stasis?”

The doctor’s mouth went dry; he knew it’d been too long, “Approximately twelve minutes. We had to wait for the decontamination to finish to get him out.”

Boyce merely nodded, “Okay, what’s the deal with the plasma and how do you plan to circulate them?”

“I injected it into a dead tribble, and it came back to life.”

“It just came back to life?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but it did. It’s like it kick-started its cell replication processes. It began forming healthy tissues. The tribble was small so I guess diffusion took care of the circulation, so for Kirk we can use ECMO.”

“Leonard, if this doesn’t work it’ll only bring more pain. Are you sure it’s not best just to let him go in peace?”

“He doesn’t believe in no-win situations,” McCoy said with such fierce determination.

Boyce studied McCoy’s face, “Alright, but I’m ending things if I feel that it goes too far. This’ll be a helluva comeback if you pull this off.”

The two surgeons quickly ran their hands under the sterilizer unit and walked into the OR. They stepped up to Jim’s cryotube having been gowned and gloved. McCoy punched in the sequence to initiate the thawing process. The minutes it actually took seemed like hours until two techs pulled the faceplate off the tube and laid Jim out on the table. A nurse sliced off his shorts before covering him with a gel blanket. 

The sound of the bioalarms reacting to the lack of vital signs was unnerving, only rubbing in the fact that this was an incredible long shot. McCoy smirked at himself thinking of Spock rattling off some obscurely small percentage of this actually working. 

“Alright people, let’s work quickly. Let’s keep him at nice thirty three degrees.”

Boyce grabbed the offered laser scalpel from the nurse and made a small incision in Jim’s neck. McCoy felt bile that was climbing it’s way up his esophagus, but gulped it down and pulled apart the incision. The pair worked swiftly to insert and secure tubing into arteries to completely reroute Jim’s circulatory system. A sleek looking instrument whirred to life and dark red blood began to flow out of one of the tubes only to be returned a bright cherry red into Jim’s body by another tube. 

McCoy watched Jim’s face go from a ghastly grey color to a sickly white as his tissues infused with the much-needed oxygen. It was far from the vibrant color he normally had, but it was a step in the right direction. Dr. Boyce sealed the incision in Jim’s neck and stepped back.

McCoy took this as his cue and popped open the case containing the plasma. A simple snap into the IV control box and the straw colored fluid began dripping into an IV line that a nurse had already established.

“This could take some time to work,” McCoy increased the flow rate.

“Lets get stabilizers on his other internal injuries and we’ll come back an fix them if this works. We can’t close any internal bleeding until his tissues are healthier. Get a set of neural scans too.”

McCoy numbly nodded as he watched the plasma drip into his best friend’s veins. 

###

“Doctor McCoy.”

“Doctor McCoy.”

There was a gentle shake of his shoulder. His eyes blinked open, funny, he didn’t remember closing them. He looked around the unfamiliar ICU room before settling on Jim’s prone figure on the biobed. 

“Jim?” his back cracked in protest at the sudden movement from falling asleep upright.

“Still the same, Doctor McCoy,” a brunette nurse stepped between him and the biobed.

“Why did you wake me?” he groaned.

“You fell asleep in the chair. I had a cot brought in for you. You need to rest.”

“I’m fine Nurse…”

“Bauer, and no you’re not. You’ve been aboard a starship through a battle and now this. I have orders from Phil Boyce to sedate you if I deem it necessary.”

He knew this tactic well; he’d used it on Jim several times during their last voyage.

“Give me a sit-rep, and then I’ll sleep.”

“As I said, there’s been no change. It’s only been a few hours yet. He’s still a frosty thirty-three degrees, and the second unit of plasmas is finishing. Anti-rejection meds and antimicrobials have been started as a precaution,” she pointed to the multitude of containers hanging on the IV stand.

“Any spontaneous cardiac activity? Any new cellular scans?” his tired joints protested as he leaned forward on his knees.

“No change.”

“What about the neural scans?”

“No detectable activity, Doctor McCoy. I promise to wake you if anything changes.” 

He knew he wasn’t going to make progress with this no nonsense nurse. After taking a moment to summon up the strength he pulled himself up. The weight of the entire world seemed to fall on him, dragging his bones to the ground. It had been one hell of a couple of days, and he hadn’t gotten much rest on the way to Qo’noS.

“Easy there,” he felt a pair of hands steadying his wavering form.

Those hands guided him to a cot that had been placed in the corner and gently set him down. His hands fumbled with his boots and he closed his eyes before falling sideways until his head connected with a pillow. He felt his legs placed on the cot and a scratchy blanket pulled up to his chin. It was nanoseconds and he was encompassed in the blessed relief of sleep. 

_“Engineering to Sickbay,” a thick Scottish brogue resonated from the comm panel._

_“McCoy here, I’m a little busy at the moment,” he was surrounded by wounded._

_“Sir, you’re needed down here.”_

_“Scotty what is it? I’m up to my eyeballs here. I can’t spare the manpower, can you get them up here?”_

_There was a pause from the engineer, “I understand, we’ll take care of it.”_

_The comm went out and he didn’t give it another thought; there were too many patients in his Sickbay for him to leave. He was in the middle of packing a profusely bleeding leg wound when he saw the doors open out of the corner of his eye. Scotty and a couple of engineers were carrying a body bag._

_“We’re diverting casualties to Cargo Bay Three,” he yelled over his shoulder._

_“Doctor,” Scotty and the crewmen set the body bag on the table in the middle of the bay._

_The body inside hit with a thump and immediately his heart dropped into his stomach. He took a good look at the Chief Engineer and saw tears glistening in his eyes. The instruments were pulled from his hands and he felt himself drifting to the table. A shaky hand grasped the zipper and slowly pulled it open. A wave of nausea rose up as the flap fell open. Jim. His best friend, Captain James Tiberius Kirk was dead. Two fingers to his carotid confirmed this. He was gone. Sickbay fell silent and everyone froze where they were._

_“He went inside the warp core, he saved us all.”_

_He couldn’t do this._

He felt himself jerk awake. His eyes opened to a plain white ceiling, not his best friend’s dead face.

“Your breathing pattern suggests that you are awake, Doctor McCoy,” a distinctly Vulcan voice floated over him.

_Great, that green-blooded hobgoblin was here._ There was a tug at the inside of his arm when he brought his hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. His eyes opened further to reveal an IV unit strapped to his arm and a metal monitoring bracelet encircling his wrist. _When did that happen?_ He was confused.

“The nurse tells me that you’ve been unconscious for approximately 13.3 hours and you required hydration therapy.”

He rose up and swung his feet over the side of the cot. Spock was sitting rigid in the chair at Jim’s bedside.

“Thirteen hours?” he tapped a button on the IV box to disconnect itself and slid it, and the monitor, off his arm.

“Affirmative. A set of cellular imaging scans completed six hours ago show that there has been a 4.9% increase in Jim’s cellular regeneration. Minimal brain activity has been detected.”

He pulled down his sleeve and pulled his boots on before gingerly standing up. Gravity did nothing to help his decidedly full bladder. After a quick trip to the head, a couple of taps to the biobed’s control panel confirmed Spock’s news. Jim’s brain was functioning, but barely. 

“A Doctor Boyce was here and did not wish to disturb you with the news. I was told to give this to you,” he set a stainless steel thermos on the hovering table.

McCoy couldn’t grab it fast enough and chug the piping hot coffee. The caffeine made its way into his bloodstream, filling him with energy.

“You are a good man, Spock,” he chugged more coffee.

“It was not my idea, but I will take it as a compliment.”

McCoy eyed the Vulcan, assessing his condition. As usual not a single hair was out of place and his dress grey uniform was immaculately pressed. The injuries he had sustained during the fight with Khan were already healed. However there was something he’d never seen in Spock’s eyes, fatigue.

“Have you gotten any rest, Spock?”

“Briefly. It was some time before the _Enterprise_ could be towed to the orbital dry dock and the admiralty has been most curious about recent events. My debriefing is scheduled to resume in an hour.”

“What about the rest of the crew?”

“Rest rotations are underway, but general debriefings are scheduled to start later this afternoon. We’ve all been ordered to participate in relief efforts throughout the city once we have been questioned. You have been relieved of these necessities for the time being.”

Good, he thought to himself, he didn’t have it in him to face the events. It was better if he could just keep going and putting it out of his mind.

“Khan?”

“He’s been transferred to a maximum security facility to await trial.”

Some part of him is disappointed that the bastard had survived to make it trial. He could see the destruction he’d caused on the Bay area from the hospital window. God knows how many people were dead.

Spock stood up in one fluid motion, “I must return to headquarters, but I will attempt to return after I am finished.”

McCoy did something he never thought he’d do, he grabbed the Vulcan’s shoulder, “Make sure you take care of yourself too.”

“Your concern is appreciated, Doctor McCoy,” Spock said expressionless as he grabbed his cover from a nearby table.

The doctor watched Spock leave. _Something must’ve happened between him and Jim._ He turned to face the man in the bed. Jim was normally so full of life he moved constantly, even in his sleep. Now there was nothing, not even a steady rise and fall of his chest as the ECMO machine pulled his blood out, oxygenated it, and pumped it back through his body at a constant pressure. He jerked in surprise as he grasped Jim’s ice-cold hand. All of this work to keep him alive only made him seem deader.

“How’s our patient this morning, Doctor McCoy?” the nurse from yesterday walked in.

“Nurse…” he knew he got her name yesterday, but it just wasn’t coming to him.

“Bauer, Anna Bauer,” she set her tray down.

“I’m sorry-“

“No worries, yesterday was pretty awful and you were exhausted.”

He watched as she went about her duties checking the biomonitors, adjusting IV feeds, and the ECMO machine. Jim would’ve loved all of this attention from a good-looking nurse. She delicately turned his arm over and pressed a blood collection device against his skin. With a click and a hiss the sample chamber was full. 

“Doctor McCoy, could you step back for a moment? I need to take a new set of scans.”

McCoy looked down, he hadn’t realized he’d been holding Jim’s hand the entire time, “Oh, sure.”

He let go and the scanner began humming with a tap on the control panel. A green light made its way from the bottom of Jim’s feet all the way to the top of his head.

“Alright, he’s all yours again. Doctor Boyce is supposed to come back by this evening, but until then I’d suggest you take some time to yourself and get a change of clothes and something to eat.”

“Can you send me the scans?”

“After you’ve taken care of yourself. You won’t do him any good if you run yourself down.”

He really didn’t want to leave but there was really nothing he could do. It was a waiting game for now. Jim’s body had to build up enough healthy tissue so they could repair all the damage. He really wanted those scans so it was probably best to play along and stay on everyone’s good side. 

“I’ll have them ready for you when you return,” she said pointedly before walking out of the door.


	2. Chapter 2

###

He had to admit; he did feel like a new man after going back to his apartment to shower and change before grabbing a sandwich at his favorite deli. True to the nurse’s word, a data pad was waiting for him on a bedside table when he got back to Jim’s room. He plopped down in the chair with more force than necessary and began tabbing through it. There wasn’t much change, but there was a little bit more improvement. He’d been started on dialysis in his absence to help his body rid itself of the dead cells being replaced. Clearly Jim’s body was going to take its sweet time and that this was going to be a test of his patience.

“C’mon, Jim, you can fight this,” he was prepared for the iciness of Jim’s hand when he grabbed it this time, “I never got to say goodbye.” 

With his free hand he used his credentials to open up the Sickbay files from the ship. All of the injured unable to be discharged had been transferred to Starfleet Medical to finish their treatment. He made a mental note to make it a point to stop by and check in on everyone. A flashing icon caught his attention; apparently a CMO saving a dying captain didn’t earn a reprieve from all of the paperwork Starfleet required. The sad thing was that most of them were death certificates that needed his signature, 157 confirmed casualties. Sighing, he opened up the first one and started working.

Several hours and several dozen certificates later he found himself nodding off in the chair at Jim’s bedside. It was already dark outside. He set the data pad down and scrubbed his face with his hand, he was too old for this shit. The aroma of finely roasted coffee mixed with lavender hit him before he saw Uhura standing in the doorway holding a steaming cup of coffee.

“Can I come in? I brought coffee to bribe you with,” the communications officer asked tepidly.

McCoy was glad to see her, and the coffee, “Well…you did bring coffee.”

She flashed a pained smile and crossed into the room, depositing the coffee cup into McCoy’s eagerly awaiting hands as he offered up the lone chair in the room.

“How is he?” she took Jim’s cold hand in between hers.

“Some small improvement in terms of cellular regeneration, but no where close to any major system recovery.”

“He feels like a block of ice.”

McCoy took a drag of his coffee; “It’s to preserve any remaining organ function. It’s also helping keep some of his other injuries at bay while we focus on more vital functions.”

“Other injuries?” her hand gripped the captain’s tighter.

“Yeah, he sustained quite a bit of internal damage before traipsing through the warp core and it’s not like that helped things either.”

“Will he be okay?”

That was the million credit question, “I hope so.”

“Spock was going to come with me, but he’s been held up at HQ. The amount of questioning he’s undergone from Command has been outrageous. My debrief was no where close to what he’s going through.”

“He looked exhausted this morning,” McCoy sat down on the cot that was still in the room.

“He hasn’t been resting well. This incident has really shaken him up. I’ve never seen him cry before.”

“So it is true, that hobgoblin actually has a heart,” the doctor smirked.

A small smile escaped from Uhura, “He was with Kirk when…”

McCoy’s heart sank; Jim had spent his last moments with the Vulcan robot. No one had thought to call him. He wanted Jim alive just to bitch him out for what he put him through.

“It happened so fast, Leonard,” clearly he didn’t keep his emotions from reaching his face.

“I cou—“

“I know Jim would’ve wanted you there too, but he was gone so quickly. Spock only had a minute with him.”

As a doctor he knew this. The human body could only take so much ionizing radiation and the amount zipping through the warp core was hundreds of times more than what was considered lethal. Jim was lucky to have lasted as long as he did. He couldn’t have done anything for him anyways, but still that feeling wouldn’t stop gnawing at his gut. 

“At least someone was with him, you know?”

Uhura only nodded. The two officers sat in a companionable silence listening to the whirring and clicks of all the instruments in the room. It was peaceful in the room with the lights automatically dimming for the evening. A wave of exhaustion hit the doctor and he leaned back against the wall. He was just going to close his eyes for a few seconds.

###

“Leonard, you really need to take care of yourself,” there was a voice above him, “This is the second time I’ve come in here and you’re passed out in the corner.”

He opened his eyes and immediately regretted the decision. It was apparently daytime again and the light was scorching his retinas.

“Phil,” he stood up off the cot stretching the muscles in his back.

“Remember our agreement? This isn’t what I had in mind…” Boyce was standing by the monitors on the other side of the bed.

“I have nothing to do other than to wait,” McCoy saw a data pad clutched in the older man’s hands, no doubt Jim’s records.

“Which is precisely why you’re going to start seeing patients. We’ve been flooded with injured from all over San Francisco,” he handed McCoy the data pad in his hands.

Shit. That wasn’t what he assumed at all.

“But,”

“No buts, Doctor McCoy. There’s nothing you can do for Captain Kirk other than stare at him. I’ve looked at his newest scans and cellular regeneration is up to 23%. He’s got more healing to do before we can think about taking him off ECMO and dealing with his internal injuries. We haven’t even begun to address the damage to his immune and nervous system, and who even knows how much brain function he’s lost. This is going to take time and I’m not going to have you sitting here all day with your thumb up your ass moping. If you’re going to be in this hospital, you’re going to be useful.”

McCoy was stunned, he couldn’t believe that the old man still had it in him to dress him down, “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Boyce nodded to himself, “Once Kirk’s up to about 30% we’ll look into repairing all the internal trauma and get his circulatory system going under it’s own steam again. We’re going to take this one step at a time.” 

The CMO nodded; truthfully he wouldn’t have done anything different.

“I expect that Command will be looking for you soon. I’ve been asked to keep them appraised of the Captain’s condition, and they were really interested in your ‘unique solution’ as they called it.”

He’d known all along that this was shady, but he had forced it deep down in his gut when the tribble came back to life. Those stupid ship logs recorded everything. Khan’s blood hadn’t been tested on anything other than a tribble, which was a far cry from anything resembling human physiology. Not to mention he did take the genetically engineered blood without consent from Khan and transfused it into Jim without his consent either. The medical review board was going to have a field day. Then there was the other side of the coin where they were likely to lock Jim away and experiment on him after coming back from literal death. This was one epic shit storm that was brewing. 

“I was hoping they’d stay off this for a little bit longer.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you did good,” he gave McCoy’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before exiting the room.

He looked down at the data pad he’d been given to avoid thinking about his upcoming date with Command. The transferred members of the Enterprise had been assigned to him. One small mercy about having to see patients was at least he wasn’t working in the ER. With one last look at Jim and he was out of the door. 

###

McCoy would never admit it, but it had been a relief to be busy all day and not constantly thinking about treatment protocols for Jim for every little scenario he could think of. Most of the crewmembers, the ones awake, were ecstatic to see him and questioned him endlessly about the condition of their captain. Of course they would’ve heard about what happened since gossip on that ship traveled faster than light speed. He reassured them that they were doing everything they could and that they just had to wait. There was no sense in lying to them after everything they’d been through recently. A few of the crewmen were discharged and a majority of the others would be soon. There were a dozen others seriously injured but were expected to make a full recovery in time, though it was unlikely they would ever return to active service. 

The clock display on his data pad flashed 2015 hours; he’d worked a full day and he felt it. His feet had led him to Jim’s room without even thinking about it. He’d sat with Jim at lunch while he ate a sandwich, but that had been the only time he’d seen him. Mercifully the visitor’s chair was empty and his joints cried with relief upon sitting down. He should’ve brought an overnight bag with him; there was no way he was making it back to his apartment to sleep. 

Pulling up Jim’s chart on his data pad he quickly scanned through all of the updates. _Still no change._

“You’re more than welcome to speed things along,” he informed his friend.

Of course there was no response, he probably would’ve pissed himself if there had been. He pushed back an errant lock of hair off Jim’s head and settled back into the chair with his data pad. He opened up his work file from the _Enterprise_ and dove into it.

It was some time later when a beep emanated from the biobed’s console. McCoy looked up from his work, the number displaying Jim’s blood pressure had turned yellow. Frowning, he stood up. The ECMO had been providing steady circulation for several days without any incident. The monitor beeped again, this time the number turned orange. _Shit_ , was all McCoy had time to think before the number turned red following by an incessant beeping. _Hemorrhage._ He ripped the cooling blankets off the bed and pulled Jim’s hospital gown up to his chest. There were multiple vascular stabilizers dotting his abdomen and chest, but beneath one on his abdomen was a dark purple bruise. 

He slammed his hand down on the emergency call button on the console as several nurses and Dr. Boyce were crossing into the room.

“He’s hemorrhaging!” McCoy shouted.

“Damn, I thought we’d have more time,” Boyce was at McCoy’s side in an instant.

McCoy and Boyce barked orders at the nurses who dutifully followed them, pushing vasopressors and volume expanders, silencing the screeching alarm, and getting all of the equipment attached to Jim on the biobed for transport.

“Lets get him to the OR now,” McCoy disengaged the clamps on the bed and it floated free of its base.

“You up for this, Leonard?” Boyce asked as the group raced down the hallway to the turbolift.

“Yes sir,” McCoy looked down at Jim’s ashen face.

The group arrived in the OR and Jim was quickly transferred to the surgical biobed while the two surgeons changed out of their hospital whites and into scrubs. McCoy silently thanked whoever invented the sterilizer unit he just ran his hands under before sprinting into the OR with Boyce right behind him. The duo hastily donned the rest of their surgical gear.

The anesthesiologist at the head of the biobed nodded and the two surgeons quickly got to work. McCoy’s brain shut down and muscle memory took over as he and Boyce isolated the bleeds and shut them down. He was literally up to his elbows in Jim’s insides. The man was losing blood faster than they could replace it; it was like the dam broke all at once. 

“Hang another four units and open all the fluids wide open,” Boyce barked from behind his mask. 

“Dammit, Jim,” McCoy hastily threw saturated surgical sponges into a bowl. 

One by one they removed the vascular stabilizers to repair the damaged tissues underneath. The team continued to battle their war for hours until McCoy and Boyce took a step back from the grotesque mess that was before them. Blood was everywhere; it saturated the cloths covering Jim, the floor, their shoes, and their gowns. Jim was still alive. He was fighting harder than either of them could’ve predicted. 

“Dear God,” McCoy surveyed the frightening mess.

“This man needs to buy a lottery ticket,” Boyce was wiping his gloved hands on a surgical towel, “Lets leave him on ECMO for the time being until he recovers from all this. He’s already at thirty-six degrees so lets leave that alone for now, maybe things will speed up a bit. Up the zephromycin to 25 migs and start a lentanyl drip at 0.2 migs. I want a set of neural scans every six hours and keep transfusing until his counts come back up.”

McCoy was frozen. Jim’s life had narrowly missed slipping through his blood soaked gloves and he had pulled him back by a thread. That gnawing pit that was in his stomach when he opened the body bag was back. The man had been through so much already and this seemed like it was just prolonging the inevitable. _I can’t let him go._

“Leonard? You alright?” 

Hazel eyes blinked when Boyce stepped between the two friends, “I’m good.”

“He’s alive, Leonard, that’s what counts right now. This is uncharted water, complications are expected.”

Boyce was right; this was not going to be an easy feat to bring a man back from the dead. They were going to have to take this once crisis at a time. McCoy watched as Jim was cleaned up and he was transferred onto the biobed in a fresh gown. Boyce subtly led him back to the scrub room to clean up.

###

“I miss you, Jim.”

He just wanted the old Jim back. The man that had saved him from the tailspin following his divorce, who helped him get over his aviaphobia, who nagged him to death like an excited child, who led him through one of the worst disasters Starfleet had ever faced, and the man that had died to save him and his crew. Instead he got the shell of that same man lying on the biobed before him, desperately clinging on to life. If you could call it life…his heart hadn’t beat in days and his brain was barely functioning. The biggest challenge had yet to be faced, was there even a ‘Jim’ left in that brain of his? The only response from the biobed was the dermal regenerator clicking away over bare skin repairing the incisions.

The sun started peaking through the privacy filters on the window in the hospital room, bringing a new day ahead. McCoy had stood guard at Jim’s bedside for the rest of the night, ready to spring to action at the slightest decline in vitals. He had grasped his finally warm hand for dear life as if it was the only thing keeping the man alive.

“He’s going to make it, Leonard,” Uhura said softly from the door.

She and Spock were standing in the doorway dressed in coveralls, no doubt in preparation for their day of recovery duties in the city.

“Doctor McCoy, I was informed of the most recent…complications. What is Jim’s condition?” Spock stepped up to the biobed.

“He’s the same, Spock. We repaired all the internal damage, but we’re going to have to let him recover some before we try to make more progress.”

“Were you up all night?” Uhura spied the dark circles under the doctor’s eyes.

“Yeah, I was.”

“Leonard, you shouldn’t…”

“I know I shouldn’t, but I will. He sacrificed everything for us and I’m going to do everything I can to see that he comes out of this,” McCoy’s drawl sounded more determined than either of the two officers had ever heard.

Spock just stood there, unfazed at the doctor’s outburst. Uhura put a gentle hand on the doctor’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “You’re doing great, but Jim wouldn’t want this. He worked to hard to save us, to save you.”

“I’m not leaving him alone again…” his throat was clenching.

He didn’t want to finish that line of thought, but his brain filled in the part about not wanting Jim to die alone again. Sure Spock had been there, but there was a four-inch pane of radiation resistant glass separating them. Now the man was hanging onto life with his fingertips and they weren’t going to let him go. 

“We’ll get someone to come sit with him so you can rest Leonard, we’ll set up shifts so he’s not alone.”

“We have to go downtown, but we will return tonight to sit with him.”

McCoy nodded. The pair took one last look at their captain before departing. It was almost an hour later when Sulu and Chekov showed up, dressed in civvies, with a bag of food and entertainment.

“Doctor McCoy,” Sulu set his bag on the cot in the corner.

“Sulu, Chekov,” McCoy noted that the young ensign’s wide eyes fixed on Jim.

“Uhura and Spock called us to come relieve you for a while.”

“I appreciate…”

“We are also under orders from _Commander_ Spock that we are to not let you stay.”

McCoy’s brain flashed back to the helmsmen sitting in the Captain’s chair threatening to obliterate John Harrison if he didn’t surrender. He reasoned that it might be best to leave for a while. God knows he wasn’t the twenty something resident he used to be that could work several shifts without sleep.

“Besides, I’m sure the Captain is ready for some different company for a little while.”

“We will take excellent care of ze keptin,” Chekov finally looked away from Jim.

Sulu stood there unwavering. McCoy groaned as his joints protested the effort to push himself upright.

“Alert me if _anything_ changes,” he said pointedly.

“Aye sir,” Sulu replied. 

McCoy bent down to Jim so that their foreheads were touching, “I will strangle you myself if I hear that you’ve pulled this crap again.”

He turned quickly before tears could start bristling at his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

###

A chime from his personal computer terminal interrupted his cleaning binge. Once arriving at his apartment he had poured himself several fingers of a 25 year-old bourbon he’d been gifted and began meticulously scrubbing his apartment. The chime rang out again. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, but the caller would not take no for an answer so he threw down his sponge and knocked back the last bit of bourbon in his tumbler.

He accepted the incoming call and nearly wept with joy.

“Daddy!” his daughter’s bright face filled the screen.

“Oh Joanna, I’m so happy to see you. I’ve missed you so much,” tears were forming at the corners of his eyes.

“Mommy said that you just got back from space.”

“I did sweet pea.”

“Was it a fun trip?”

“Not this time,” he tried not to grimace.

“I’m sorry daddy,” the little girl’s smile faltered for a moment.

“Me too, sweet pea. What have you been up to?”

“I finished first grade!” her little curls bounced with excitement.

“That’s wonderful! You’re a big girl now.”

“I know I am,” she smiled proudly.

“Daddy, when can I come see you?”

“I don’t know sweet pea, there’s a lot of sick people here that need my help,” it nearly broke his heart to turn down a visit.

A frown formed on the little girl’s face, “I miss you daddy.”

“I know sweet pea, but I promise to let you know the minute you can come.”

“How’s Uncle Jim?” her disappointment didn’t last long.

“He’s really sick right now,” there was a tug in his heart.

“Are you going to make him all better?”

“I’m trying, sweet pea.”

“Can I visit him too?”

“Sure thing once he’s all better. It’ll take a while though, he’s really sick.”

“Can’t you just kiss it and make it better like you do for me?”

“I wish I could. I know he misses you too though. I’ll let him know he owes you a visit when I go see him.”

There was a noise off screen and Joanna turned, “Mommy says I have to go now, but I’ll call you this weekend.”

“Okay sweet pea, I love you so much.”

“I love you more daddy,” her bubbly smile filed the screen before the call was ended.

McCoy leaned back and crossed his arms. This was exactly the thing he had needed; it had given him a surge of energy. He finished cleaning his apartment and the remaining reports from the _Enterprise_ before lying down in his bed. He rolled over and was asleep in seconds.

###

A communicator chirping dragged McCoy out of the dreamless sleep he was ensconced in. He grumbled but the chirping continued. Rolling over he grabbed the infernal device off his nightstand.

“McCoy,” he answered without opening his eyes.

_“Doctor McCoy, the medical staff will be conducting neural scans in an hour. Nyota and I thought would like to be present.”_ Spock’s voice filled his bedroom.

“Has there been any change?” his eyes were fully open now.

_“He has remained stable throughout the night.”_

“I’m on my way,” McCoy closed the connection before Spock could reply.

It had been over twenty-four hours since he’d left the hospital but now he couldn’t run up the steps fast enough. Something felt different, something good. The painfully slow turbolift finally opened up to the twelfth floor and he bolted down the corridor. Spock and Uhura were talking quietly outside of the door to Jim’s room. The communications officer flashed a relieved smile before nodding towards the door.

The door swished open for the doctor and he stepped into the room. He dropped the duffle bag he’d packed on the cot in the corner in disbelief. More nurses and doctors than McCoy thought possible were crammed into the tiny ICU room, all buzzing around Jim. A flash of panic spread through his entire body until he saw a brightly colored brain on the main display. Most of the organ was greyed out but there were flashes of yellows and reds emanating from the different lobes. McCoy wanted to weep at the sight.

“Leonard!” Boyce made his way through the medical maze to McCoy, “I think your boy finally turned the corner.”

“How much activity?” 

“GCS is still low, but telemetry detected an uptick in activity late last night and it’s been slowly increasing. His kidneys are starting to take over, and the really good news is that he’s been having intermittent cardiac contractions.”

“How?” McCoy was stunned with all this good news; it seemed like Jim had finally turned the corner and a recovery was possible now. He tabbed through the biomonitor’s readouts.

“Things were pretty bad after we repaired all of his internal injuries. At that point any of your super plasma had probably been lost so I ordered the third bag to be transfused. It seemed to have done the trick,” Boyce was beaming. “I know he’s still got a long way to go, but this was a significant step forward for him.”

“Why didn’t you comm me?” the doctor was disappointed that he’d missed a major milestone.

“Leonard, you needed a break. It wasn’t going to change anything if it didn’t work. Truth be told, I was ready to let him go and this was a last ditch effort. He’d gone almost a week with the barest hint of any brain activity. If this had been anyone else you wouldn’t have dragged it out this long.”

“Jim doesn’t know how to fail.”

Boyce nodded, “That being said, we’re going to start weaning him off the ECMO.”

The buzz around Jim had died out as the doctors and nurses had finished their assessments and left the room. McCoy hadn’t noticed any of this. Boyce clapped him on the shoulder as he left. 

Without all of the people hovering, McCoy could finally get a look at his best friend. He was still deathly pale, but there seemed to be a sense of life around him for the first time since McCoy unzipped the body bag. He sat on the edge of the biobed and clasped Jim’s warm hand between his own. Having talked to his daughter and now Jim’s incredible improvement filled his body with a surge of energy.

“It’s going to happen,” Uhura entered the room with Spock.

“I agree with Nyota, the chance for a recovery is finally favorable.” 

“It’s about damn time,” McCoy was genuinely happy.

“A private memorial service and reception for Admiral Pike has been scheduled for 1400 hours tomorrow,” the conversation hit a somber note with the Vulcan’s announcement.

“Jim would want to be there,” McCoy stated.

“Yes he would, but we’ll be there for him,” Uhura rested her hand on the doctor’s shoulder, “Don’t work too hard today, Leonard. Scotty should be here shortly to sit with him for a while.”

“I can’t thank you two enough for this. It means a lot to me that he isn’t left alone,” McCoy gave the hand between his a squeeze before setting it down gently on the biobed and rising.

“Your gratitude is welcome, Doctor McCoy, but we do not wish for the Captain to be left alone either. His demise was most unsettling, and his comfort is a primary concern.”

“Wow, Spock, you’re getting all warm and fuzzy on the inside.”

“While my body’s temperature is higher than—“

“Spock, it was a joke,” Uhura nudged him with her elbow.

McCoy thought he saw a flash of embarrassment cross the Vulcan’s face, but it dissipated too quickly to confirm.

“Sorry, I’m late! Those bloody highland coos they call engineers at the dry dock are driving me nuts,” a frazzled Chief Engineer skidded into the room.

“Mister Scott,” Spock greeted.

“Commander, Doctor, Lieutenant,” Scotty nodded to each person.

“Thanks for coming to sit with him, Scotty,” Uhura smiled.

“I need a break from those idiots. I cannae stand to watch them mistreat such a fine lady, she’s already injured enough as it is.”

After catching up with Scotty for a few moments, Spock and Uhura took their leave with the promise to return with dinner later in the evening.

“How is he, Doctor McCoy?” Scotty finally turned to face the man he’d been charged to sit a vigil for.

“I know it looks bad, but he’s actually doing a lot better. Things were really bad a few days ago, but things are turning.”

“What in God’s name is that contraption?” the engineer had noticed the tubes filled with blood coming from the Captain’s neck.

“That machine over there is pulling his blood out and oxygenating it externally before circulating it throughout his body. The goal is to have him off of it by tomorrow.” 

“Dear Lord. What am I supposed to do?”

“Just sit here with him. Despite the increase in his brain activity, he’s still comatose. Try talking to him. We just want him to know that he’s not alone.”

“Aye, I can do that,” Scotty settled into the bedside chair.

“I’ll be back by off and on, I’m on duty today.”

“McCoy, you’ve done good. I’m sorry I dinnae call you sooner…you know when…”

“I’m sorry too, but you got him to me in time, and right now that’s all that matters.”

The engineer just nodded as the doctor left him alone with his captain.

“It’s just you and me today, Cap’n.”

###

“Is everyone ready?” Boyce waited for nods from everyone in the surgical suite, “Alright, game time.”

McCoy took the small instrument in his hands and pressed it to Jim’s bare chest. With the press of a small button the sensor sealed itself to the skin and projected a 3D image of an unmoving heart above his body. After three trips to the OR in just over a week, this was hopefully their last. Things had continued to improve and Jim’s tissues were finally deemed recovered enough to let his circulatory system take over. 

“Alright, pause the ECMO,” Boyce called from behind his mask.

Silence fell over the room as the machine that had been keeping the Captain alive was stopped. McCoy had gotten used to the whirring and it’s sudden silence set him on edge. He stared at the projection above Jim intently, waiting for any movement. Agonizing seconds went by before the organ sputtered to life. His trained eyes watched the mechanics of the atria expanding as they filled and then contracted, sending blood to the expanding ventricles before their contraction, and then the process started all over. 

The pumping action was slow at first, but strengthened with each beat of the newly awoken organ. The biomonitors sprang to life at the detection of heartbeat. McCoy watched in awe; Jim’s heart was beating again. The image of opening the body bag flashed before his eyes, but he quickly replaced it with this new image of a beating heart.

“Isn’t that a beautiful sight?” Boyce watched the organ expand and contract.

The bioalarm for oxygen saturation began chirping from the lack of new oxygen being introduced. The team waited anxiously for a few seconds for Jim’s body to respond by taking a breath, but his lungs remained motionless.

“Give him two breaths,” McCoy ordered.

A nurse fit a mask over Jim’s nose and mouth and squeezed the attached bag twice before pulling it away. Nothing. McCoy ordered two more breaths and the nurse obeyed. The nurse pulled back the mask; there was a quiet gasp of air. Jim’s chest rose slightly as he pulled in his first shaky breath. It was like watching a newborn taking their first breaths after entering the world.

“Turn on the oxygen field,” McCoy’s white knuckles were showing through his gloves.

A flick of a switch and Jim’s lungs took a deeper breath, infusing his blood with much needed oxygen. The team waited a few minutes for the processes to reestablish themselves before moving to disconnect the tubes still protruding from the Captain’s neck. McCoy and Boyce worked efficiently to reopen the healed incision, remove the tubing, and seal the arteries before closing the wound. All that remained of the efforts to keep the man alive for the last week was a small pink line of newly healed skin.

McCoy found himself back in the ICU room staring at his best friend watching him breathe. Jim’s heart was beating, his lungs were working, his liver and kidneys were slowly regaining their function, and his brain was increasing its activity. It was a goddamn medical miracle that he made it this far. He had done it; he had brought Jim back from death. _The hard part was over._ The possibility of Jim coming back to him was real. The doctor let out a breath that he seemed to have held ever since he unzipped the body bag in his Sickbay. 

He felt a presence walk up beside him and wonder in awe at the sight in front of them, “You did it,” Uhura spoke softly.

“He’s really alive now,” moisture was welling up at the corner of McCoy’s eyes.

“Doctor McCoy, this is remarkable,” Spock stood rigidly on the other side of McCoy.

“It’s something.”

“How much longer until he regains consciousness?” the Vulcan asked.

“It depends on a lot of things, but hopefully soon.”

“I would like to make it known that I would not object to joining his consciousness to determine a more concrete time frame.”

“I don’t know about that Vulcan ‘voo-doo’ of yours, Spock, but I appreciate the offer.”

“I defer to your medical opinion, Doctor.”

“We brought your dress uniform for the service and reception this afternoon,” Uhura lifted the garment bag she was carrying.

McCoy glanced at the officers and noticed that they were already in their dress uniforms and ready to go.

“I’ll go change and we can leave,” he took the offered bag.

###

McCoy filled himself a cup of coffee from the beverage table before joining the rest of the _Enterprise’s_ senior officers that were talking quietly in a corner. He savored the burn down his throat of the quality coffee that Starfleet had sprung for. 

The memorial service had been a somber affair since the only thing close enough to family that Pike had left was currently comatose at SFM. Several of his colleagues had spoken of his character and dedication to Starfleet before an honor guard had folded a flag that had been draped over his steel casket. The crew had all stood stone faced through the ceremony and then kept to themselves at the small reception that followed. 

Several members of Starfleet’s senior command had inquired about Captain Kirk’s status before the group had a chance to circle up and close themselves off to unwanted attention. They had all been told that he was still critical and that they could interview him at his physicians’ discretion. It made McCoy super aware that he had yet to be debriefed and this was only reminding them.

“I see you got some of the good stuff too,” Sulu raised his coffee cup to McCoy as he joined the circle. 

“It’s certainly better than anything I’ve had in a long time. Having good coffee on board would be good for crew morale.”

“I hear you there, Doctor. I heard that there was good news at the hospital today.”

“Yes there was,” McCoy actually smiled, “Jim’s body is supporting himself now.”

“That’s fantastic!” Chekov chimed in.

Dr. Carol Marcus, who had limped over to them supporting herself with a cane, joined the circle of officers. McCoy knew from her charts that her patella had damn near been obliterated and it would take some time to heal completely.

“May I join in?”

“Certainly, Doctor Marcus,” McCoy moved out of the way to let her into the circle.

“Thank you, Doctor McCoy.”

“Leonard, please.”

“Carol, then. I’m glad I found you guys here.”

“How have things been?”

“Well, I’m not under suspicion of treason anymore so that’s improvement,” she forced a smile.

“Carol, if there’s anything I can do…”

“I appreciate it, Leonard. I was wondering if it would be possible to visit Captain Kirk?”

“Certainly, I’ll add your name to the list of approved visitors. I’m sure he’d love your company.”

“How is he? I’ve been kept pretty far out of the loop lately.”

“He’s getting better. We were able to take him off life support just this morning.”

“That’s wonderful, is he awake yet?”

“Hopefully he will be soon—“

A quiet chirping from the comm in his pocket interrupted their conversation. The doctor dug around in his pocket before pulling the device out and reading the message. It was from the hospital.

“I’ve got to run. Jim’s spiking a fever,” McCoy worriedly excused himself from the conversation.

The other officers stopped their conversations and turned to the doctor.

“Doctor McCoy?” Spock left Uhura’s side.

“A complication. I’ll keep ya’ll updated,” he waved his comm.

The group didn’t appreciate the brush off and accompanied McCoy back to Starfleet Medical despite his protests.

McCoy felt the tingle of a sterilization field as he entered the hospital room to find Boyce sitting behind Jim who had been turned to his side. The doctor was collecting fluid from a needle that had been inserted into the Captain’s spine.

“His temperature started climbing a few hours ago, but he’s only recently gone full septic,” Boyce said without looking up from the procedure, “Scans couldn’t find any local infection source.”

McCoy walked over to the other side of the biobed to face Jim. The biomonitor was displaying at temperature of 40 degrees. His newly healed cheeks were flushed and his hair was sticking to his sweaty forehead. He ran his hands through the damp hair to unstick it. 

“I know we had him on stem cell therapy to help his immune system, but I want to try infusing it directly to the marrow. I think the cells are getting caught up in other healing processes instead of making it to the marrow,” Boyce capped the vial of fluid.

“I’m surprised the plasma hasn’t taken care of that,” McCoy rested his hand on Jim’s bare shoulder.

“Me too, but it has done an awful lot of work lately restoring primary functions. An infection was inevitable; the radiation pretty much destroyed his immune system and we’ve been giving him meds to suppress any response from the plasma. ”

“Dammit, Jim,” McCoy muttered.

“Alright, I’m gonna start IO access. Can you send a lentanyl bolus?” Boyce rolled further down the bed. 

McCoy nodded and tapped the commands into the IV control box to deliver the pain medication. The man under his hand visibly relaxed. Boyce pushed the sheet out of his way to access Jim’s hip; the nurses had removed his gown when his temperature first spiked. He picked up a gun-like instrument and then pressed it to the skin directly over the bone. The biomonitors chirped in alarm as Boyce squeezed the trigger and drove a metal cannula into the bone. Jim’s brain activity and heart rate spiked with the pain.

“He felt that,” McCoy perked up.

Boyce looked up to the monitors, “That’s a great sign.”

“He’s in pain,” McCoy elation quickly turned to concern as he watched the monitors.

“I’m almost done here, I’m drawing out a sample now.”

The doctor finished what he was doing, taping the flexible tubing attached to the metal cannula to Jim’s skin. Together the two men repositioned the Captain so that he was again laying flat on his back. Boyce left after collecting his sample vials while McCoy restarted the biobed’s cooling function. A quiet cough alerted him to the fact that Nurse Bauer had entered to sponge the Captain down and resupply the antibiotics that were infusing.

“He’s getting there, Doctor McCoy,” Nurse Bauer stated while sponging Jim’s arms and chest.

“Oh I know, damn if that bastard would make something easy for us,”

Feeling useless, McCoy took a washcloth from the nurse’s stack and wetted it in the basin of tepid water. He wrung it out and folded it neatly to fit on Jim’s forehead, and was rewarded with a small sigh of relief that escaped the Captain’s lips.

“Keep fighting, Jim, you’re almost there.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is, the last chapter and hopefully I've done it justice. I can’t thank all of you enough for riding along with this. I would like to continue Jim’s recovery and the implications from everything in a sequel (which has been started); I feel like there’s still more to be said here but I had to get this out instead of waiting for a complete picture. Enjoy!

###

Every so often Jim’s lungs would stutter and the biobed would automatically take over. The doctor’s grip would tighten on his friend’s hand until his body got the message and resumed breathing for itself again. McCoy looked at the hand underneath his. The numbing iciness that he’d felt days ago had been replaced by a searing heat as its owner’s body burned with a fever. _You’re so close now._

“Doctor McCoy,” Spock was at the door.

“Yeah, Spock?”

“I have been unable to delay the admiralty any longer, they have ordered you to be debriefed.”

“Now?” McCoy rose up angrily out of the chair, bringing Jim’s hand with him.

“Doctor Boyce was keeping them apprised of the Captain’s condition, and they know that he’s been taken off life support and is improving. They were most adamant about not facing another delay now that he’s on the mend.”

“Spock, does he look like he’s ‘on the mend’?”

“Not at the moment, but they feel that he is stable enough for your presence to not be needed.”

“Dammit, man! I can’t leave him yet!”

“I am aware, Doctor McCoy, and I tried to explain the seriousness of his condition.”

The gears in McCoy’s head began churning. He knew he was waiting to be questioned, but their sudden insistence was concerning. _Doctor Boyce was keeping them apprised of the Captain’s condition._ It hit him; he knew exactly why they wanted to talk to him so quickly. 

“They know the transfusion worked?”

“Presumably so, Doctor. I had talked to Doctor Boyce about altering the records, but it would’ve been a monumental task to _adjust_ the ship’s records. The declaration of death of the Captain was a significant event and triggered an automatic alert to command.”

McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose, “Do they know where the plasma came from?”

“I am uncertain.”

“Alright, can you sit with him?” McCoy set Jim’s hand back down on the bed.

“Of course, Doctor McCoy.”

“Comm me if anything changes. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Good luck.”

The doctor was fuming and didn’t bother to acknowledge the rest of the senior command crew that was still waiting in the waiting room as he stormed down the hall.

###

He straightened his rumpled dress uniform before slamming his hand on the ID scanner. The door hissed opened, leading him to a panel of five very cross looking admirals seated behind a u-shaped table. He took a deep breath and stood at attention behind the lone chair on the in the center of the ‘u’.

“Lieutenant Commander Leonard McCoy reporting as ordered sirs.”

“Be seated,” a terse reply came from the end.

McCoy took a good look at the officers as he sat down. In the center was the new head of Starfleet, Admiral Komack, and to his right was the Surgeon General, Admiral Donaldson. _Shit._ He was going to get it from both Command and Medical. He didn’t even bother looking at the others after that.

“Before we start, I would like to commend you for your efforts as Chief Medical Officer during the recent engagement with the _U.S.S. Vengeance_ ,” Komack started.

“Thank you, sir,” McCoy stated tersely, already on edge.

“Now, we’ve already heard testimony from First Officer Spock and the rest of the bridge crew. All that remains of the senior command to be questioned is Captain Kirk and you. We’ve been lenient towards the situation you both are in, but we need answers now.”

“I understand, sir.”

“We’ll begin with the _Enterprise’s_ deployment under Admiral Marcus’s orders.”

McCoy swallowed the lump in his throat and began recapping his involvement from the moment he was issued his new orders. The admirals only interjected to ask for clarification, but remained silent other wise. No doubt they weren’t getting any new information after debriefing the senior command crew and reviewing all of the transmissions saved in the ship’s computers.

“That agrees with what we know so far,” the admiral at the end stopped McCoy’s testimony as he was recounting the stabilization issues in Sickbay as the ship was plummeting.

McCoy nodded and took a drink of water from the glass in front of him.

“Now, we know that the ship’s logs recorded Captain’s Kirk time of death but we hear from Doctor Boyce that he is in critical condition, but very much alive.”

“Yes, sir,” McCoy wasn’t going to offer anything.

“Elaborate,” bellowed a thick Irish accent as Donaldson spoke for the first time. 

“Uh, the Captain was brought to Sickbay per standard procedure—“

“Where you upset?” Donaldson glared past his glasses at McCoy.

“Yes sir, the Captain and I were friends. I immediately ordered for Kirk to be placed into a cryotube.”

“Why, McCoy? He was clinically dead, and had been dead for several minutes.”

“It occurred to me to transfuse plasma to restart his cell regeneration,” this was as painful as pulling hen’s teeth.

“How did it ‘occur to you’?” the Surgeon General was digging, they knew something.

“I—“ he hesitated

“Need I remind you that you are under oath, Doctor McCoy?” an admiral at the other end interjected.

“No sir, I am aware,” a bead of sweat rolled down his neck.

“We alredy know about Khan and his ‘powers’. We’ve talked to the wife of the man responsible for the attack in London. It’s curious that his daughter was on death’s doorstep and is suddenly alive and well after his act.”

McCoy was stunned. _This has been used before? At least there’s no sense lying about it._

“Now, McCoy, how did it occur to you to transfuse the Captain?” Donaldson took back control of the questioning.

“A tribble I had been testing Khan’s blood on came back to life,” he’d said it, there was no turning back now.

“Khan’s blood?” the admirals sat up straighter.

“Yes sir. I’d noticed he had some extraordinarily fast cell regeneration when I was testing his blood after coming aboard the ship.”

“How did they end up in a tribble?”

“A hunch, sir, I wanted to see if it would do anything.”

“A lucky hunch,” the Surgeon General made notes on his data pad.

“Yes sir, I really didn’t expect anything to come of it.”

“Okay, so now I’m assuming you put Kirk in stasis to preserve him?”

“Yes sir, Commander Spock was in pursuit of Khan and I let the Bridge know that he could save the Captain.”

“Where did you get the cryotube from?” Komack asked this time.

“Uh, we took someone else out of one to put Kirk inside.”

“What did you do with them?”

“They’ve been in a coma and have since been put back in stasis.”

“Okay, back to Kirk. Did you see Khan when he was apprehended?”

“Yes sir, he was brought to Sickbay unconscious and under heavy guard.”

“Did you assess him?”

“Briefly, his wounds were not life threatening. We extracted the plasma shortly after he arrived.”

“You took three units?” the Surgeon General looked at his data pad.

“Yes sir.”

“Why three?”

“A guess, sir.”

The admirals didn’t comment but they wrote something down on their data pads.

“What next?” Komack asked.

“Emergency medical support arrived and began transferring the wounded off the ship.”

“You went with Kirk?”

“I did, sir.”

“You left Sickbay during a crisis?” Donaldson pulled off his glasses.

“Everything was under control. The critical patients were being evacuated and medical teams were supplementing our own staff. As the Captain’s personal physician, I was responsible for him,” McCoy was defensive of his decision.

“As the Captain’s friend…”

“I also happen to be his friend, but at that moment I was his doctor,” McCoy snapped at the insinuation.

“Would you have done this for any other crewmember? Even a lowly galley tech?”

“Yes, sir,” he said without hesitation.

Donaldson kept pushing, “Was Doctor Boyce in agreement with your treatment plan?”

“Not at first, but he agreed nonetheless and we put the Captain on ECMO and began the transfusion.”

“Did you know that it would work?”

“No sir, I did not.”

“Did you do any further testing on the plasma before giving it to Kirk?”

“Only the preliminary safety screens from the extractor.”

“So you transfused a dead man with plasma from a genetically modified human without thoroughly testing it?” Komack was turning red.

“There wasn’t time.”

“He was in stasis, Doctor, why wasn’t there time?”

“There were too many unknowns and the quicker the better.”

“Could you have rushed things because you were emotionally compromised?” a middle admiral asked.

“It’s possible, but I did it. I brought him back,“ McCoy rose up knocking his chair over.

“Sit down, McCoy.”

“Yes sir, I apologize sirs. It’s been a long week and a half,” he quickly reigned in his temper and returned the chair to its upright position.

“Have you done any testing on the plasma since transfusing it?”

“No sir, taking care of Kirk has been a full time job.”

“How is he currently?” Donaldson’s eyes softened a tiny bit.

“He’s off life support but he’s gone septic. His chances for a full recovery are still good though.”

“I’ve familiarized myself with his records. Your quick thinking was pretty impressive.”

“Thank you sir.”

“We’re going to confer with each other and resume at 1600 hours. Report back then.”

Just like that, the questioning was over. He stood to attention and was dismissed for the time being. He all but ran to the bathroom and locked himself in a stall. He closed the toilet lid and sat down with his head in his hands. That had been brutal and it had taken everything in him to keep from exploding all over the admirals. They had dissected every single decision he’d made and flayed their flaws open before him. _Did I do the right thing here?_ He just sat there in the bathroom, telling himself that Jim was alive, until it was time to reconvene.

“Lieutenant Commander McCoy, we’ve heard your testimony and at this time we will not be seeking punitive measures. Despite the glaring ethical issues with your administration of Khan’s plasma to Captain Kirk, you did the best with what you could in a bad situation.”

“Thank you, sirs,” he breathed a sigh of relief. 

“I would like to caution you to letting your emotions cloud your judgment. You may adamantly deny anything, but it’s obvious that you were deeply affected by Kirk’s passing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you have any questions?” Komack asked.

As a matter of fact, he did. “What’s to become of Khan and Kirk? Do you plan to experiment on them?”

“No, McCoy, we do not. We do not condone unethical experimentation and any mention of the true cause of Kirk’s recovery will be redacted from official record for their protection. Officially he was in arrest for a recoverable amount of time. Starfleet lost sight of its true mission and we’re not going to revert back to the ideals from Marcus’s reign. I’m not denying the implications of a super serum that can bring back the dead, but it is not up to us, or _you_ , to play God.”

They were going to sweep everything under the rug. As much as it sucked, this was the best thing they could’ve done.

“Thank you, sirs.”

“Please keep us apprised of the Captain’s condition, we need to speak to him as soon as he’s able. Dismissed.”

###

“That was a fucking nightmare,” McCoy plopped down in the chair at Jim’s bedside and unzipped his stiff dress jacket.

There was no response from the man on the bed, just rhythmic breathing and the beeps from the biomonitors.

“You should be happy to know that you’re not going to be turned into a lab rat. Though it would be super convenient to keep you out of harm’s way.”

McCoy tabbed through the latest updates in Jim’s chart on his data pad. His antibiotics had been switched but his fever was still raging, but the good news was that the latest neural scans showed more brain activity.

“You’re getting there, Jim. Just keep hanging on,” McCoy squeezed Jim’s pliant hand.

A soft groan reached the doctor’s ears. 

“Jim?” he perked up.

There was another groan and Jim’s brow was wrinkled. McCoy saw an increase in his heart rate.

“Can you hear me? I’m here, Jim.”

McCoy combed back some sweaty hair from his forehead. Whatever that had been bothering the Captain was gone and the wrinkles unfurrowed themselves. 

“I believe he his in pain, Doctor,” Spock was in the doorway.

“You keep creeping up on me like that.”

“I apologize, it has been unintentional. How was your debriefing?”

“It was pretty awful. They knew about Khan’s blood. Apparently he used it to coerce the guy in the London bombing.”

“That is unfortunate.”

“That’s putting it mildly, Spock. They weren’t too happy that it was an impromptu treatment, but they’re not going to do anything about it.”

“I expected that much with the state of chaos Starfleet has been thrown into with recent events.”

“You said Jim was in pain?”

“Yes, I confess that I tried to initiate contact with him and the pain was overwhelming. I was unable to continue.”

“You did what?” the doctor snapped.

“I wished to ascertain his mental status and alleviate any fears he could be experiencing. My intentions were benign.”

“I know, Spock, I’m just tired. I know you meant well,” McCoy turned in his chair and started tapping new drug orders on the IV control screen. “That should take care of things.”

“The crew is going out for alcoholic beverages and I am to use any force necessary to get you to accompany me.”

“Are you trying to be funny, Spock?”

“No, Doctor. I was left with explicit instructions from Nyota and I do not want to anger her.”

“I hear ya there, Spock,” McCoy chuckled; it was clear who wore the pants in that relationship.

“It has been a stressful night and day, Jim would want you to take care of yourself.”

“I’m already going, you don’t have to guilt trip me,” McCoy pushed himself tiredly to his feet.

###

A delicious aroma of finely brewed coffee wafted under his nose. He inhaled the scent deeply, letting it seep into all of his organs. There was a steady drilling in his head wrenching him to consciousness; he was hung over. He took in his surroundings; he was on the cot in Jim’s hospital room. The proverbial wheel in his mind tried to start turning to recall what had happened but he was drawing a blank.

“You can sure put away your liquor, Doctor McCoy,” a voice called out to him.

He forced his eyes to focus on the blurry figure in the bedside chair. It slowly morphed into the chief engineer.

“What happened?” McCoy cautiously rose up and scrubbed his face.

“Ya tried to drink everyone under the table. I think only Jim could’ve gone toe to toe with ya.”

He felt terrible, “Why am I here?”

“Ya wouldn’t shut up about not going to your apartment. Not to worry, laddie, a cute nurse came in earlier and said you could use the staff showers.”

He tried to nod but it only intensified the drilling in his head. The delicious smelling coffee that had awoken him was thrust under his nose. 

“I could kiss you now, Scotty.”

“Ehh, please don’t sir. I got that cute nurse’s comm signal earlier and I was hopin’ to take her to dinner.”

McCoy responded by gulping down the piping hot liquid. After caffeinated, he looked up at the biomonitors. Jim was still running a fever, but it wasn’t quite so severe. 

“He’s almost back to us,” the engineer saw the doctor assessing the patient.

“Almost, Scotty.”

“I’ll keep watch today.”

McCoy stifled a groaned as he pulled himself to his feet, he was too old to be drinking like that. After a quick shower and a change of clothes from his duffle, he downloaded the list of patients to his data pad and set off to work. At some point when he’d stopped back by Jim’s room, Nurse Bauer had slammed a hypo into his neck and the drilling in his head finally dissipated. She’d said that nurses on the floor with him were complaining of his grouchiness and were attempting to spike his fifth cup of coffee.

Two false alarms later, another groan and a hand twitch, he’d finally given up hope that Jim would wake up and had left for his apartment after talking to Carol who’d taken Scotty’s place at Jim’s side.

###

It was two more days of false alarms and constant vigils from the senior crew before McCoy was finally certain that Jim was going to wake up. The crewmembers had taken up reading from an old paperback novel; brought down from his quarters on the ship, in an effort to soothe his apparent nightmares. 

His fever had broken during the middle of the night leaving him soaked with sweat. He’d been mumbling the entire night and would turn his head in the direction of whoever was speaking to him, but he had yet to open his eyes. 

McCoy had been tracking his brain waves and had been hovering nearby for the past hour, he’d even stopped the automatic dosing of analgesics to help Jim cycle all the way up this time. Boyce was beaming as he informed McCoy that he’d do rounds later so that they could have some much needed time together. 

The senior crew was on standby in the waiting room and Spock was called in as Jim began another round of mumbling and twitching. He tabbed the control panel to raise the head of the biobed for the Captain’s impending return to consciousness. 

Of course Jim would open his eyes while he was turned away to the biomonitors. He saw Jim’s vitals spike and heard a gasp coming from the bed; he quickly turned around. His hands clenched around the tricorder they were holding. Looking frantically at him was a pair of electric blue eyes. He could’ve cried right then and there at the sight of his best friend looking back at him. 

He fumbled for the right words, but they wouldn’t come after all this time, “Oh don’t be so melodramatic, you were _barely _dead.”__


End file.
